


the oldest trick in the book

by awkwardspiritanimals



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardspiritanimals/pseuds/awkwardspiritanimals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz has no idea what to do, as there are no convenient supply closets or alcoves to duck into, and judging by the volume of the footsteps, they don’t have time to try and go backwards. Frozen against the wall, desperately trying to come up with some reason that the two of them are down in a restricted area, he’s surprised when Jemma turns and steps into his space.</p><p>“Kiss me,” she says, tugging his bowtie apart, and Fitz knew she could tie them well but not that she could unknot one with such ease and that’s not an image his overactive imagination really needed to have and his brain finally catches up with her words.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Jemma rolls her eyes, pulling on the ends of his tie to bring him down so she can press her lips to his, hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the oldest trick in the book

He doesn’t really know why he’s going on this mission, but Coulson had given some explanation involving Skye’s need to stay in the main ballroom in case something went wrong and his worry about the security system between them and the computer they needed to access. So Fitz finds himself uncomfortably shifting his shoulders, trying in vain to get his tuxedo to fit better.

“Hey, the girls are ready. You should come see them, they’ll knock your socks off,” Trip says, ducking his head into Fitz’s room, and of course he looks like bloody James Bond. Fitz nods and sighs, toying with his bowtie and following the other man out to the meeting room. Jemma and Skye do look fantastic, and he rubs at the back of his neck while he mumbles a compliment in Skye’s direction, earning him a smile from the hacker.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself, Leopold.” He rolls his eyes as he comes to stand in front of Jemma.

“You look great,” he says, making sure he’s looking her in the eye and not staring at a spot over her shoulder like he wants to. Jemma’s dress is strapless and red and the high heels she has on make her legs look indescribably great; he’s not sure how he’s supposed to concentrate on the mission when he also has to act as her date tonight, doing date-esque things like bringing her drinks and dancing. But she’s been assigned to accompany him when he sneaks off to go get the files they’re searching for, and Coulson was worried that if Skye’s date disappeared there might be questions. So the hacker is paired with Trip and Fitz is attempting to mentally prepare himself for an evening of very carefully not staring too much at her or avoiding her gaze too often and reminding himself to breathe with regularity.

“Thank you, so do you. Did Trip do your bowtie for you?”

“I’m a grown man, I know how to tie my own damn bowtie.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Fine. Coulson did it.” Jemma laughs as he tries to control his blush.

————————-

Fitz carefully slips through the door behind Jemma, willing his palms not to sweat as she tugs him along by the hand. They’d spent an hour blending in, dancing and mingling as best they could, Fitz letting her do most of the talking, before slipping away. Now he follows her down a darkened hallway, mentally running through the schematics he’d memorized. They make it around three corners before they hear footsteps approaching from the other direction; Fitz flattens himself against the wall and Jemma freezes.

He has no idea what to do, as there are no convenient supply closets or alcoves to duck into, and judging by the volume of the footsteps, they don’t have time to try and go backwards. Frozen against the wall, desperately trying to come up with some reason that the two of them are down in a restricted area, he’s surprised when Jemma turns and steps into his space.

“Kiss me,” she says, tugging his bowtie apart, and Fitz knew she could tie them well but not that she could unknot one with such ease and that’s really not an image his overactive imagination really needed to have and his brain finally catches up with her words.

“What?”

Jemma rolls her eyes, pulling on the ends of his tie to bring him down so she can press her lips to his, hard. His hands grip her waist, more for balance than anything else, as he’s suddenly dizzy, brain blank. One of her hands has slipped behind his head to settle in his hair, and the other is unbuttoning his jacket and pushing it open, wrapping around one of his braces as she presses herself more completely against him. Fitz can’t hold back a soft moan as she sets her teeth into his bottom lip gently, following it with her tongue, and he can feel her smile against his mouth.

“Very good, Fitz. Very convincing,” she whispers, and he wants to make some joke about fake moans and his espionage skills, but he can’t because it was not in the slightest fake and he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten every word he’s ever learned and also she’s kissing him again and he thinks only someone crazy would want to interrupt that to make a bad joke. Fitz is really starting to lose the ability to stand, his knees weakening further when her hands slip to his belt loops to tug their hips closer.

“Hey!” a gruff voice calls, and Jemma breaks away from him, out of breath, glowing, and he knows he should probably say something to the man yelling at them, but all he can do is stare at her. She giggles, of all things, and buries her head against his shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” says the same voice as before, and Fitz is finally able to turn away from Jemma for a second to match the voice to the mountain of a man in a black suit standing at the end of the hallway.

“Oh, we’re sorry,” says Jemma, a little loudly, slurring slightly, and he realizes that she’s pretending to be drunk, “We just needed some privacy,” she giggles the word out, “You know how that can be?”

“Yes, well, you’re still not supposed to be down here.”

“I’m sure we’ll be out of here in just a few minutes, right, honey?” she asks, turning to him, and the best Fitz can manage is a sort of dumbstruck nod. The man considers them before rolling his eyes and moving on, glancing over his shoulder at them, and he cannot believe that worked. They stay silent until he rounds the corner, and then Jemma looks up at him with a smile.

“I’ve always wondered what that would be like,” she says with a grin, the hand at the back of his head moving so she can run her thumb across his bottom lip, “Kissing you, that is.”

“Oh,” is all he can manage, and Jemma smiles at him, pushing up onto her toes to replace her thumb with her lips, and his brain goes blank again. This one is softer, slower, and it still makes his head spin. When she pulls away, Fitz glances down the hallway, wondering if she’d noticed the guard coming back, but there’s no one.

Jemma tugs on his hand, “Come on. We’ve got to get those files before he comes looking for us.”

————————

Once they’re back at base, Coulson and May disappear into his office to look over the files Fitz and Jemma had gotten, and, after changing out of their formal wear, the others gather in the kitchen, as is their tradition. Trip and Skye are at the table, arguing about their Scrabble game, and Jemma is making tea. Fitz is mostly attempting not to think about the fact that Jemma looks just as good in sweatpants and what might be an old t-shirt of his as she did in that dress, but he’s also slowly trying to make himself some toast.

He thinks that maybe they should talk about what happened. He thinks that maybe they should never mention it again. He thinks that maybe she kissed him because she wanted to, at least the second time, and he thinks that he’d like to know for sure. Fitz realizes too late that he’s staring at her, and she raises her eyebrows at him. He turns away with a blush to load the toaster.

“You know, it was actually quite nice, once you got over your surprise,” she says, and he can feel her move to stand behind him, “Kissing you, I mean.”

Fitz chokes on his inhale and spins around to look at her, smiling up at him innocently and far, far too close, and he wonders why Trip and Skye have to be here for this. Hasn’t he, in his life, endured enough embarrassment without having to stand here, with them gaping and trying not to laugh?

“Er, thank you. I thought it was quite nice, too.” He wonders if that was the right thing to say, and why he bothered using the toaster, since he’s pretty sure his face is hot enough right now to turn bread perfectly golden brown in seconds.

“Yes, well, I could tell,” Jemma answers, and her eyes flash downwards for just a moment, and her smile is significantly less innocent now. Fitz thinks he hears Trip make some sort of choking noise in surprise, but he’s experiencing some pretty bad tunnel vision, since Jemma has stepped even closer. The toast pops up behind him, and he turns to pull it out and drop it onto a plate, trying to catch his breath and remember how to say human words. When he turns back, she’s moved even closer, enough that he can feel the ghost of her shape against him.

Fitz swallows, and Jemma seems to take this as some sort of cue, because she tangles one hand in his shirt, pushes up on her toes and presses her mouth against his again. Trip and Skye whoop and hoot from their place at the table, but he ignores them in favor of pressing back eagerly. He can feel her smile, and Fitz thinks about what an enormous privilege that is. She pulls away, leaving him breathless and dazed.

“I’m going to my room,” Jemma says, and he nods, barely noticing when she reaches around him to steal his plate of toast. She gathers her tea from the opposite counter, nodding good-bye to the other two before turning to smile at Fitz from the doorway one last time. He barely registers that Skye and Trip are speaking to him.

“Fitz? Fitz? Leopold?” Skye calls, and Trip laughs.

“Give him a second to process. The girl of his dreams just stuck her tongue in his mouth.”

“What?” says Fitz, finally looking at them.

“Aren’t you going to follow her?” Skye asks, eyebrows raised.

“What?” he asks again, still off balance.

“Simmons? Aren’t you going to go after her? I mean, even if she wasn’t planning on sexing you up- which seems unlikely, given the making out against the counter and the blatant bedroom eyes happening in, may I remind you, the place where the whole team cooks and eats- she took your toast.”

“My toast?” he repeats, and then shakes his head to clear it. It only sort of works, “Right. Simmons took my toast. To her room. After kissing me and stating clearly that her room was where she was going.”

“I can see why they call you a genius, Fitz,” Skye says, but she’s smiling.

“Right. Well, I’ve got to go get my toast, I suppose,” he says, and he can’t shrink his grin even a little as he moves to exit the kitchen area.

“I swear,” he hears Trip say, “if ‘going to get toast’ becomes a euphemism on this team, I’m leaving.”

Fitz laughs as he makes his way down the hall toward Jemma’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt answer I wrote between seasons one and two that I'm only now bothering to move over. I suppose now it takes place in the an alternate universe where bad things don't happen 97% of the time.


End file.
